


The Mirror Shows Two Faces

by nocturnias



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnias/pseuds/nocturnias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had always thought he was so cruel because she didn’t count. He had always known he was so cruel because she’d always counted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mirror Shows Two Faces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lono](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lono/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Lono!

She had always thought he was so cruel because she didn’t count.

All the times he rolled his eyes, or ignored her, or put her down…it was obvious she meant nothing to him.

He was hurtful in every observation he’d ever made about her. Well, except about her hair, but he just wanted to see a body that legally he couldn’t see.  Her mouth was too small, so were her breasts, conversation was really not her area, she’d gained 3 pounds, and she had long term hopes, however forlorn.  And those were some of the nicer remarks. There had been many others over the years.

He was right about all of it, of course. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. Especially the forlorn hopes bit.

She knew he’d never love her. Who’d want to love a woman like her? Not Sherlock Holmes. Not anyone.

But she loved him. And she would until the day she died.

And probably after that, too.

So she resigned herself to the ache in her heart, never expecting it to go away.

So of course, he had to go and ruin it.

And Molly Hooper was ok with that.

    *                  *          *          *          *          *          *          *

He had always known he was so cruel because she’d always counted.

Every deduction, every remark, had seemed offhand, indifferent.  But he was far from indifferent about her.

He trusted her. He always had. He’d always known he could.

And he’d also known, after that awful Christmas party, that she loved him. Quietly, fiercely, and unconditionally. And she believed in him and was stronger than he’d ever given her credit for, until he saw it the night he asked her to help fake his death. Everyone underestimated her. Moriarty had, and that fact was to be his salvation. It was horrible, but he was glad. Because if Moriarty had known what was truly in his heart, he’d have put a sniper on her, too.

It was difficult to believe that she loved him. Who’d want to love a man like him? Not anyone. Anyone, that was, except Molly Hooper.

 When he returned, when it was all finished, and he saw her, he realized that he loved her, too. And he would until the day he died.

And probably after that, too. If he were to believe in such things.

He held her tightly against him, and in a quiet voice told her all this.

He wasn’t a fanciful man, didn’t believe in what he couldn’t see. But he could have sworn that when she breathed, something dark and painful left her, went away never to return.

And Sherlock Holmes was ok with that.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
